What is Necessary
by KPRS Splicer
Summary: How far would you go for someone you love? Whether it be your family, your spouse, or your children. Would you save them? Would you die for them? Would you kill for them? For Ron Stoppable, he may not like the answer. Spliced Cross-over revealed at end of story. ONE-SHOT. COMPLETE.


A/N: Hello guys, and good evening. I'm saying good evening because when I finally finished this piece, it was 7:00 PM. A funny tidbit about this story. It actually started out as a plot bunny, rising out a part of my primary story that I am writing and from a really good one-shot "The Price We Pay." by Taechunsa. If you like my story, then I encourage you to read his as he has more experience with writing and story-telling.

As this is my first shot at Fan-fiction, the story may be riddled with grammatical errors and fragments. The obvious fragments that you will find are intentional. They help me to emphasize critical points in the story, so please bear with me; however, if there are some unintentional grammatical mistakes, please let me know, so that I may update them accordingly. Just be respectful about it. There is no reason to yell or scream. I won't be able to hear you.

Finally, even though some of you may identify the characters and the other universe that I've spliced together pretty quickly, my disclaimer will be placed immediately at the conclusion of the story.

As you are reading this, I would like you all to consider the following question:

"How far would you go for a loved one?"

What is Necessary

 _By KPRS Splicer._

It was a simple room. No other way to say it.

That's what it was. That's what it is. That's what it will be. It was a simple 30'x30' room with grey walls blanketing each side. Bright halogen lights flickered due to the strain on the closed power grid, and a one-way glass window allowed for observers. But its purpose will profoundly change the life, possibly the spirit, of a man… a man who refused to consider his current position. Hell, he still wondered why he was here.

Had he been asked a year ago…no, not even two month ago… he would've never considered the possibility of being in this situation, in this room, in this building for all its worth, without wondering if he was under one of Dr. Bortol's mind-control chips. It would certainty explain the helpless feeling coursing through his veins as he contemplated how to resolve this situation.

"Will you give yourself to this program?"

He didn't want to answer that. Not one bit. Didn't even want to think about it. This was the last thing he wanted to do; because, if he did answer that question, he would most likely hate himself for it. She would probably hate him too.

 _Her._

He couldn't even think her name right now. Didn't want even to associate her name to what he was about to do. Even though it was all for her. Everything that he had done in his life had been for her. From helping her with her favorite hobby, to making sure that she was not only loved, but protected so that no harm would ever befall her again.

Never again.

Since that horrible day, that nightmare continued to plague him. Every night, he would see her limp body unconscious, hanging by a thread, both figuratively and literally. Her bright auburn mane, which normally would complement her beauty to a point where God surely must have misplaced one of his angels, was disheveled, dulled, and dirty. Her green-eyed orbs, which to this day would put any emeralds to shame, were swollen, sunken, and misty from all the kicked up dirt. Her gown, which was to celebrate her finally transition from child to adult, only served as a tittering gateway between life and death. And to top it off, her flawless body, her creamy, silky skin, which made her the envy of every girl in their high school, or even the whole city, was battered, bruised, and covered in disfiguring purple petechiae. And to him, she never lost any of her beauty in his eyes.

However, seeing her hanging on by a thread, suspended by the leg by a war-lust alien, snapped something inside of him. Something inside him awoke and it was here to stay. He completely overwhelmed the cretin and his mate, hurling them back towards their ship, solemn in the satisfaction that they were hurtling towards their deaths. Throughout that whole escape, throughout that whole one-sided fight, he kept repeating one thought over and over again.

Never again.

"Have you made a decision?"

He still didn't want to answer that question. He knew what would happen if he answered that. The exact course of events played through his mind, utilizing technical and tactical experience and knowledge obtained through the months spent training for this test. This one moment. He knew exactly what would happen. He knew he could do it, because he had already done it before. On that fateful day, when his world threaten to extinguish. But this was different. Completely different.

"This can't go on. You have to decide."

 _I can't. This isn't right. I don't even know this person. Who I am to pass judgment onto him? She certainly wouldn't._ He knew. S _he_ would weigh her options. She would calculate the best possible move before _She_ stroke. She could be stubborn at times, but not when in her "mission mode." He accepted that he'll never achieve her standards. But he realized that if he didn't try, at least one more time, he would not only lose his own respect, but hers as well.

"Who was he?"

"We've been though through that."

"What did he do?"

"It doesn't matter."

Of course it matters, every little detail about this whole sitch matters. There had to be a reason for all of this. One cannot simply hand out an order of this magnitude and expect it to be followed without some sort of opposition. _Can't it?_

"You came to us. You volunteered. You said you would do whatever it takes to save her life and keep her safe."

And there it was. The reason for his being here. The reason he put up with two months of rigorous training. Two months of near death workouts. Two months of exercise, that had he not full control of his mystic abilities, would have killed ten Olympic gold winners.

And two months of psychological brainwashing. Those endless sessions, those creative methods, those painful experiences, all served towards one goal. To do as commanded. To follow orders without question. Even if you don't agree with them. He played along, even accepted some of their reasoning, but he never allowed their primary goal to supplant his mission. His ultimate goal. His most sacred ambition.

"You're not a liar are you? Or too weak to see this through?"

It took every ounce of self control not to kill the woman on sight. How dare she call his purpose in life a lie? What does this old cow know about love, about devotion, about loyalty? That woman would probably sell half of her agency to complete a mission. He knew he could never let that happen. _She_ would not want him to. _She_ would want him to do everything possible to protect the innocent. To protect the world. To protect her.

"This is it. Let go of yourself."

He wasn't ready to let go just yet. Wasn't ready to let go of that funny, goofy, carefree attitude that he had come to love so much. She loved it too. What kind of man was he if took that away from her? What kind of man would do that to a person they loved with all his heart?

But he also knew that a man must sacrifice for his loved ones. Even his own happiness. He felt absolutely certain that should he carry through this, it would be the end of what was forged between them. Fourteen years of friendship, two years of passionate love gone. She could never live with the knowledge of what he had done or was about to do. And wouldn't blame her, for he could barely stomach the idea itself. And then that nightmare flashed through his mind again.

"Will you give yourself to this program?"

He sighed in defeat. Despite all the misgivings, despite all the sorrow that awaits him, despite the loneliness that will result from this action, he knew his answer. He had to proceed. To shoulder this burden alone, so no one else would suffer through it. To make the world a safer place, free from the malicious sadists whose only desire is to see the world burn. But most important of all, perhaps the only true reason. The reason he stepped through those same grey doors two months ago…

He stood. He brought his right hand up above and to the right of his head. He brought it down in a sweeping arc, his eyes in masked in a haze of cobalt blue. As his hand came down, a long, slender, katana, flashed into existence in his hand. He paused.

"For Kimberly…"

With that submission, he performed a body spin, allowing the blade to meet and sever its target. At the conclusion of the spin, the sword flashed out of existence again, and his eyes returned to their normal chocolate brown, but with emptiness inside.

For a second or two, nothing happen.

Then slowly, a covered head fell to the ground, followed closely by its detached body. Blood pooled around the area, and the executioner and observer soaked in what occurred. The hood fell off, exposing a very surprised expression of William Du.

The man fell to his knees, an expression of horror on his face, but also with grim acceptance hiding in his eyes. Even though he had just executed a traitor, he still felt sick to his stomach. He knew it would never get any easier. Leaving him in this position, the one-eyed witch gave her newest asset a sadistic, malicious grin.

"Welcome to the program."

A/N:

Pretty dark stuff huh? Hopefully this will show you my view on how far Ron will go for Kim.

I'll start with all the legal BS: I do not own anything at all of Kim Possible and the Jason Bourne Series, nor do I intend to use them for profit. They are merely ways for me to express my views on the Kim Possible Universe, Ron Stoppable in particular, as well as for personal enjoyment.

With that out of the way, I like to close with a few items.

Once again, this is my first story, so please let me know what you think about. Be honest and insightful. If you like it, great! If not, then offer suggestions on how to improve, whether its grammar issues, or character expression, or even plot critiques. I'd love to hear your opinions; it's your First Amendment Right. That being said, please be respectful, don't just flame me in all caps, express why you didn't enjoy the story.

Also, I would like some suggestions on tags and ratings. Since the Bourne Ultimatum was rated PG-13, I decided to rate it T. If you think the rating is too low, please let me know ASAP so I can change it. Also, I tagged this story Suspense and Drama. If you have better tags than this, again, please let me know.

While this story may allude to Ron and Kim breaking up over his actions, I don't think the Kim I've seen and read about will abandon Ron that easily. She may disagree, may even try to dissuade him from his new job, but she will always stand by him and help him through those dark times.

So why did I allude a possible breakup? Simple. Despite all of Ron's accomplishments, his self-esteem has always been in the toilet. No matter how many times Kim tells otherwise, Ron will always view himself as inferior to this "perfect angel of light and justice" that he sees. This is why the breakup is mentioned, because from his point of view, Ron believes it will happen. But this is only my point of view. You are all free to draw your own conclusions.

Finally, I am in the midst of writing my flagship story between Ron's AU High-school experiences with a spliced Russian crisis, so if you like this one-shot, keep an eye out for my work-in-progress. I will post it when I have all the opening pieces in place. Once it's posted and further written, I may divert from my flagship to write some critical mass stories. If you're unsure to the meaning, please see my profile page for a definition.

Thanks again for taking time out your day to read this. I look forward to you reviews and comments, and have a good day.


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